I could be twelve years old again?

While going back to school may not be a reality for many of the people responding to this prompt, it is unfortunately something that I have to start giving serious thought within the next couple of days. Going back to seventh grade (for that is where I was when I was twelve) would seem like a walk in the park compared to thinking about going into my senior year of high school. When I was twelve, there were no worries about colleges, scholarships, applications, AP classes, picking out clothes, trying to make new friends… none of that really concerned me because, quite frankly, I didn’t really find it important at the time. I had a (what I thought was) stable friend group, I had a set style (graphic tees and jeans- you can never go wrong with that), and most importantly, I didn’t give a darn about college because it seemed like an eternity away.
But now… things are so much different. I have college visits to fit into my weekends, blog posts to write in between piles of homework from my AP and honors classes, awkward social interactions and people to deal with…

Overall, the concept of going back to being twelve sounds like something that I would actually enjoy. It would at least be a welcome reprieve from the stresses of high school, so what are we waiting for? Let’s break out the time machine and get going.

This prompt was generated here.

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The job of your dreams… or not…

In honor of Labor Day in North America, tell us what’s the one job you could never imagine yourself doing.

There are so many jobs out there that its hard to pick just one that I could not do. My personality, my disposition and some of my phobias would stop me from doing things like teaching or nursing (I just couldn’t deal with the needles. Needles have always freaked me out.)
However, I think the one thing that would top the list is probably anything related to drawing blood. I would inevitably have to deal with screaming and crying children, which is a big turn-off for me, but on top of that, there would just be so many needles that I wouldn’t be able to handle it and keep my hand steady enough to successfully get a vein (even on someone sitting perfectly still.) Heck, even the smell of the place I go to get blood drawn makes me sick…
I definitely have a respect for all the people who can do that sort of job, though. They have to deal with two things that make most people a little squeamish: needles and blood. And then, on top of that, they have to handle people who either freak out or almost pass out when they’re pricked, which can’t be easy. (I’ll admit, I fall into the latter category; I usually start hyperventilating once the alcohol swab comes out, and by the time they’re about to go for a vein, I’m in peak freak-out mode.)

This prompt was generated here.